


Waves

by cl2y



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Condoms, Established Relationship, Hints at Emily Kaldwin/Wyman, Lovers, M/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 02:18:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10957623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cl2y/pseuds/cl2y
Summary: (Contains spoilers for Dishonored: The Corroded Man, though it's not necessary to have read the book to understand this.)He had promised Corvo a dance, and maybe even a little of something else, as the night wore on at the latest Boyle party. Now, Slackjaw always made good on his end of the deal, even if it came to fruition at odd hours and a few days late, it still came about eventually, maybe even multiple times.





	Waves

It had been just over a week since the mess with Zhukov. Emily had been sent away on a pampering trip with Wyman, and a selection of Corvo’s personal guard, to keep her safe whilst she recovered from the whole ordeal. The Royal Protector had stayed smoothing things over and trying to dissuade the rumours that the Empress had in fact broken the age long tradition and attended Lady Boyle’s party. This current moment he was in bed, trying, and failing, to get a moment’s respite from it all. Corvo got out from the covers and paced restlessly, his footsteps unnaturally heavy as he moved from one place to the next. He could always venture out across the rooftops, lose himself within the city, but if he was needed here at the tower? He should stay. There’s a solitary knock at his door following the sounds of two sets of footsteps.

“Royal Protector, are you awake?” The voice, a guardsman from under his own command, said from beyond the locked door. “There’s a man here-” a mumble from the second voice followed, “Azariah Fillmore, he says he has urgent news.” Corvo slipped on a shirt and unlocked the door quickly, he ushered the man in a sent the guard on his way with a quick thank you.

He stood, underdressed though it mattered little as Slackjaw had seen it all before, and switched on a small lamp to bathe them in a low light. His guest dressed finely in a long tailed overcoat and a brightly coloured waistcoat peeking from beneath it.

“I promised you a dance didn’t I, lad? Azariah keeps good on his promises.” Slackjaw grinned, his hand outstretched when Corvo’s frown faltered into a twitch of a smile. The man might have said his days as Slackjaw were over, but back in Brigmore, he’d gotten a taste of his old life and he had flayed it to the bone in desperation.

“That’s the urgent news?” Corvo huffed, his frame sagging in pitiful relaxation. He had thought that Emily may have been in danger, or worse. But surely he would have known first, his guardsmen would have sent word.

“Eh? I never said anything about that, I told your guard I had to speak to you, that’s all.” Slackjaw said, his fingers wiggling to take his hand.

“I’m not the dancing type.” It’s a half truth.

“I know how you Serkonians dance.”

Corvo rolled his eyes and placed his palm in Slackjaw’s own. It was a simple dance, nothing as extravagant as what was done at parties or balls, nothing quite as free as those in Serkonos, just simplistic, just Slackjaw. Their only music was their soft breathing and Slackjaw’s poor attempt at humming something he’d picked up off the street one night.

“How’s our Majesty Empress?” Slackjaw whispered, leaning back to look into Corvo’s eyes. He knows the other man does nothing but worry about her, as he always did, as he always would.

“She’s well. She and Wyman should return the day after tomorrow.” He said. It was oddly romantic for Slackjaw, whatever they were it flowed and ebbed with the tide. But neither had taken any other lovers since their dance had begun several years ago. It’s calming, being this close; Corvo rests his head in the crook of Slackjaw’s neck in a rare moment of letting his defences fall and sighs outwardly. He smells like whiskey and fine cologne, something rich and light that wasn’t too potent to prickle his eyes like most nobles wore.

“You remember the old days, lad?” He asked his voice low and appropriate for once. He knew about Gristol’s attitude to men like him, he knew when he could brandish it as a weapon and when he had to keep it quiet. Corvo hummed lightly to acknowledge his question. “I remember you sneaking into me distillery, nothing but lust in your eyes.” He laughed at that, a scoff in his chest and a smile on his lips, oh how he remembered the old days. Slackjaw pulled back and lifted his palm from Corvo’s waist, resting it against the bristles on his jaw.

Age had been kind to Corvo, his hair was mostly black and it still fully covered his scalp. No scars on his face, and his eyes were still a deep rich brown even if they wrinkled at the edges. Slackjaw kissed him gently, his lips were dry and cracked, but he wet them naturally and kissed the Royal Protector again. Corvo responded in kind, gentle, loving, something that had cultivated over the years in the shadows of back alleys in the old abandoned streets of Dunwall.

“You didn’t come here for a dance.” Corvo accused, his voice barely notable. Slackjaw had to laugh, his plan skewered easily by the Royal Spymaster. He had promised Corvo a dance, hoping to have beaten the Whalers easily enough that there was still a party to enjoy by the end of the night, that much was true. Nobody could have said anything, men often wore fake breasts and women bound theirs to add to the traditional guessing game of the Boyle parties. But it didn’t mean he hadn’t wanted to press himself naked against Corvo, to lose himself in the man as many times as he may. He’d even planned to do that at Lady Boyle’s mansion.

Corvo let his hands pluck at the buttons of Slackjaw’s overcoat, pushing it off the man’s shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. He hummed as the fabric was lost, cupping Corvo’s face in both his hands, his kisses becoming wetter and deeper where they stood. The waistcoat fell next, and he felt Corvo laugh softly against his mouth when he pulled at the suspenders until they dangled around his knees. He hasn’t changed a single bit.

A hand tangles in Corvo’s hair, directing the kiss more forcefully, as the other pushed open the lapels of his shirt. Fingers trailing over old scars, dancing across his collarbone, thumbing at his nipple. He arched into the touch, still pulling at the buttons on Slackjaw’s shirt; the man had to fiddle with his own cuffs before he could throw the item backwards, both now half undressed.

Slackjaw’s ribs still stuck out when he bent in certain ways, but old age had given him softness in his gut. He liked it himself; something fleshy to sink his fingers in when they coupled. Corvo leant back, stepping blindly towards the bed with Slackjaw following easily. His knees hit the plush mattress, and he sat without a noise, though the other simpered at the loss of his lips.

But they pressed against his gut, his nose squashing awkwardly against the flesh, and his tongue tasting his skin. Corvo felt the beginnings of Slackjaw’s erection under his trousers, an interested swell as he popped the buttons open and slipped them down across his thighs. He kissed there quickly, mouthing the fabric of his underthings and inhaling the smell of his lover. This, he thought, he had missed this.

Slackjaw had always liked this, anything with open mouths on intimate parts, preferred it if it was his own mouth doing the work. Corvo was still agile, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, climbing awkward ledges and outcrops, but he wasn’t going to over stretch his limbs and test his joints just to get on his knees in front of Slackjaw. He had done it so many years ago easily; under his desk, in his office, wherever they had been.

“Lad.” Slackjaw mumbled, his hands gently squeezing the tense muscles across Corvo’s shoulders. He should have come here earlier. The name made Corvo huff against his half hard cock, and his hands gripped his thighs harder as he pulled down his underthings.

Corvo nosed at his cock, kissing his thighs, the bottom of his belly, the protrusions of his hip bones. Anywhere but Slackjaw’s cock for the moment, making sure to avoid any contact with the flushed member. Even his hands found purchase running up and down the backs of his thighs, and then curling against the swell of his arse. His fingers spread his cheeks, forcing Slackjaw’s hips to stutter forward and his cock to nudge against the length of Corvo’s face. He pressed against his opening with a knuckle, caressing it slowly and grinning at Slackjaw’s quietened moans.

“Take it all off would you?” Corvo ordered and leant backwards onto his hands. The other man grunted at the loss and sat on the bed beside him. They both hurriedly stripped from the rest of their clothing, Slackjaw messily threw his about the room, his shoes landing with a thud and his socks lost around them. Corvo reached across for a small bottle of oil he kept hidden in his drawers, something he rarely needed nowadays. It was easier to sneak out to climb into Slackjaw’s bed than it was to sneak the man into Dunwall Tower.

The sheets were thrown to the bottom of the bed, and they lay face to face, lips kissing eagerly with a lover’s passion. Slackjaw had pulled the tie from his hair, his plait slowly untangling as they moved together. Corvo threw his leg over the other man’s hips, pulling them closer and pressing their cocks together. Oil spilt between them to smooth the friction, both moaning softly against one another, with hands wandering across their flanks. Slackjaw pushed at the softer muscles of Corvo’s chest revelling in the way he still arched into the pressure.

“Azariah.” Corvo gasped, his thigh twitching and tightening them together. Slackjaw hitched the leg higher across his waist, bent his own at the knee, and poured oil across his fingers. They trailed down Corvo’s back, a few droplets sinking into the fabric of his bed linen, and then slipped between the cheeks of his arse. He pressed gently, his first and third finger spreading the weight until the tip of his second could push against his hole.

Corvo mimicked the action, oil slathering his fingers, his hand wedged down between them so he may find his way to Slackjaw’s arse. They followed each other, pressing in one finger then two, their hips rolling and the mouths open in pleasure. Slackjaw was louder, less inclined to care whether the maids or guards heard them, for all they know their Royal Protector could be enjoying some private time alone. Corvo licked his way into Slackjaw’s mouth, he tasted like his own whiskey brand, and something sweet too.

“Corvo.” He moaned, his other hand wedging under Corvo’s body to pull their hips closer. It wasn’t the best of positions to be in, but he had fingers up his arse and a cock against his own and that was more than enough to make up for it. He’d let Corvo twist him into a pretzel if that was the only way they could be together. Slackjaw added a third finger and Corvo followed his movement, and he groaned aloud, chewing his lip to stifle the sound. He laughed again, pushing them closer together and rolling his hips faster.

“Corvo.” He repeated, breathlessly. Slackjaw could feel his back twitch with the repetitive movement, and he sped up the thrusting of his fingers, no longer wary of the wet sounds that may echo in the large chamber. It was obscene, Corvo knew, but his internal protests fell upon deaf ears for the arousal that bled through his veins. He moaned aloud, tangling his fingers into Slackjaw’s silver hair and arching them closer. He ended up half on top of the other man, hips rutting, fingers thrusting, tongues dancing.

“Slackjaw.” Corvo mumbled incoherently. Both of their rhythms increased until the fell out of sync, twitching and rolling their bodies against one another as they fell towards great heights. Slackjaw bit at Corvo’s bottom lip, grunting louder and tightening his grip on the other man. Half of him wanted nothing more than to spill between them, the other half knew this would be his only orgasm unassisted for the night and wanted it to last. But with sweat beading across their brows and their eyes half lidded and their words useless, they chased their heights with a symphony of moans and hitches in breath.

Their names on their tongues, slipping into each other’s mouths, cocks red and wet between them. Slackjaw shouted as he came, Corvo shoved his face into his collarbone, his eyes rolling and fluttering shut as he moaned out his own. They rutted as heat spilled between them, shaking through their pleasure and moaning at every over sensitive touch.

Fingers slipped out carefully, the oil wiped across the sheets before they clasped at each other’s faces. Breathless open mouthed kisses passed between the pair as small tremors wracked their spent bodies. Their thighs ached from being pressed up high against their flanks, and they both grumbled as they stretched their aged limbs.

Calmness spread over them, accompanied by their slowing breaths. Sleep overcame them quickly, late into the night and overwhelmed by pleasure and exhausted by age.

Corvo awoke with the morning sun, sticky and in need of a bath, with Slackjaw half curled around him. Azariah Fillmore shouldn’t have stayed the night, people would talk, and Corvo would have more rumours to squash. He stayed for a moment, foolishly imagining how different life could have been. He knows how different Slackjaw’s life could have been, Jessamine had told him that, Corvo couldn’t know if it would have been any better and the man had done exceptionally well considering where he came from.

“Isaiah.” Corvo whispered, pressing his lips against the shell of Slackjaw’s ear. Slackjaw grumbled and lightly elbowed him in the gut.

“Azariah.” He corrected with a yawn. “It’s bleeding early, lad, let a man sleep eh?” He kept his lips pursed until Corvo kissed him, the whiskey on his breath now dry and stale. The Royal Protector disentangled himself and left to run a bath, letting the water heat before turning a dial to lower to plug. He emptied his bladder and ventured back into the other room to pick up the clothes from last night. Corvo folded them all neatly, his own stored in a washer’s basket and Slackjaw’s set to one side.

Slackjaw snored lightly, half on his front, and splayed out in the large bed. Corvo returned to watch the bath fill from the other room, rolling his eyes when Slackjaw came in and sat down to piss. He was still tired, slightly sore from the way he rubbed his knee. He grabbed a small towel to dip into the water and wash most of their dried mess off, he offered it to Corvo but the man flinched back with a screwed up face. He’d prefer a fresh towel even if the mess had the same origins.

He laughed earnestly, dropping the towel into a linen basket and sinking into the water himself. Slackjaw gripped Corvo’s hand, and Corvo squeezed it back. Memories of Granny Rags always pierced his mind whenever he bathed; he was almost boiled in a tub of obscene liquid so no one could blame him. He didn’t like slipping too far under the water, but with what little hair he had left it wasn’t so necessary.

“Play something eh, lad?” Slackjaw yawned, sinking lower. There was an audiograph in the corner, several slabs of songs neatly stored alongside it. He put something on with a quartet of violins in, the music low and calming in the room. Not too loud to disturb any others nearby, but loud enough that it gently rang around them.

“Still calling me lad then?” Corvo smiled, slipping into the bath on the opposite side of Slackjaw, so they faced each other and their legs were tangled together, knees popping out of the water. The bath itself was large and well made, expensive with all the detail that had been painted into it.

“As soon as you get me name right, I’ll stop,” He grinned, “or I won’t.” He added with a shrug. Slackjaw moved forward so he was knelt between Corvo’s spread legs, and cupped his face to kiss him. “Maybe I’ll just keep calling you lad, because you seem to be getting younger every year.” He whispered against his lips.

“You’re moonstruck; Isaiah,” Corvo snorted, “and your eyes are bad.”

“Must be.” Slackjaw raised an eyebrow and gave Corvo the one over. Soft laughter filtered from both of them, released between the press of their lips and the gentle sloshing of the bath water. It was relaxing; with the music playing and Slackjaw kissing down his neck.

One of Corvo’s hands wrapped around the back of Slackjaw’s neck, the other lay with his fingers entwined with the other man’s hand under the water. Romantic, offhandedly romantic, Slackjaw was making an effort that he rarely bothered with before. Had the party frightened him? He’d seen Corvo fighting Granny Rags; a few Whalers couldn’t have thrown him.

Slackjaw pressed in closer, forcing Corvo’s legs further apart, and pressing their cocks together. Neither of them were particularly aroused yet, their anatomy slow to awaken in the early morning. Corvo still hummed into the kisses with a smile, they had time before the Empire awoke, an hour or two perhaps. As selfish as it was, Corvo rarely got time to himself, holding down two of the most important jobs in the Empire whilst following and training Emily, making sure nothing ill befell her as it had done her mother.

His breath stuttered as Slackjaw’s tongue lay flat against his nipple, biting on the softer flesh until it swelled. He sucked lightly, his tongue flicking against the hardening nub. Corvo angled his body to press into the sensation, his hand curling in Slackjaw’s damp tangles of hair. A calloused hand found his cock under the waves, gripping it softly and thumbing at the head.

“Do you have any skins?” Slackjaw murmured against his chest, his moustache wet and bristling against his skin.

“There’s a box in the top draw.” Corvo whispered, his heart racing at the thought of Slackjaw being inside of him. The skins, treated whale innards, were replaced every so often, the maids ensuring he always had a capable box of them stored away just in the event that he took a lover. It was best not to have the rumoured father of the Empress siring any more children.

Slackjaw slipped from the bath, trailing water as he returned to the main room, and grabbing both the box and the oil. Years had passed since the rat plague, but still, people remembered the rumours of sex spreading the disease almost as fast as the rats themselves did. He tossed the oil to Corvo, still sat with his legs spread in the bath, as he picked through the box. Water dripped from all his angles as he stood there naked, his cock jutting out, looking every bit as attractive as he was all those years ago. The music had stopped earlier, and Slackjaw pulled the slab from the bottom of the machine and slipped it back into the top.

He clambered back into the bath, with the box shoved onto the small table beside them, and kissed Corvo with a renewed vigour.

“Me or you, lad?” He grinned removing the cork and tossing it instantly. Corvo gently took the oil from Slackjaw’s grip, and pushed the man backwards, until they sat on the opposite side of the bath. The thought of being inside Slackjaw made his gut burn even more pleasantly.

“Turn around.” Corvo said, pulling at Slackjaw’s hips until he was on his knees in the water. His hands gripping the edge of the tub as Corvo kissed down his spine. He oiled his fingers, pressing them in slowly and watching the ripple of pleasure slip through Slackjaw’s body. He heard laughter bubbling from the man’s throat, and he turned his head with a grin on his lips. Corvo had to smile at that, especially when he hitched a leg higher and clutched at one of his own cheeks to spread himself wider.

Corvo’s mouth fell open at the sight, two fingers knuckle deep inside of him, his skin flushed and wet. He grabs for a skin and pulls it on himself quickly, oiling it as Slackjaw rolled his hips onto Corvo’s hand. The oil was spilt, the bottle dropping under the water. Neither of them cared.

“Come on, Corvo.” Slackjaw moaned, his knees were going to be bruised after this, and those were bruises he was familiar with. Corvo removed his fingers, and slowly nudged his cock into Slackjaw, stopping every time he saw the man’s knuckles whiten a little across the tub. He had to moan when his hips were flush against the others, his cock fully seated inside of him.

“Slackjaw.” He mumbled between his shoulders blades, his chest arching over his back. Corvo’s hips twitched slowly at first, Slackjaw’s mouth open and his groans breathy, he reached back grabbing one of the hands that held his hips, and entwining their fingers awkwardly. “Slackjaw.” He whispered again, his movements becoming more obvious by the minute.

Slackjaw met every thrust that Corvo made, they hips soon crashing together and their thighs making waves in the water. It sloshed from the edges of the tub, cracking against the floor and the rim. Corvo could hear Slackjaw mumbling his name under his breath with every roll of his hips, moaning out through his gasping breaths. He pushed aside Slackjaw’s hair, kissing the back of his neck and teething at the back of his shoulders.

Corvo reached around and grabbed for Slackjaw’s cock, hard and wet against his belly. The other man moaned and let his head fall below his shoulders, he could see past his gut to the marked hand grasping him, stroking him roughly, and almost glowing beneath him. Corvo had explained all that to him as best he could, and Slackjaw had kept his lips loyally sealed ever since.

“Azariah.” Slackjaw chided, drowning old uncomfortable memories.

“Isaiah.” Corvo laughed against his shoulders. Slackjaw slapped the hand gripping his hips, and gripped the rim of the tub in both hands. He was slipping slowly, all the thrashing water causing his hands to lose their stability. “Azariah.” He added with a gasp. His hips shaking and his rhythm faltering. Corvo tightened his grip on Slackjaw’s cock, pumping it faster, choosing speed over skill.

Slackjaw grunted loudly, almost a sob at the change of pace, his voice echoing in the porcelain room. He reached back, damned be his grip, and pulled at Corvo’s hair, their bodies twisting and arching to accommodate for the new position. But it drove Corvo in deeper, his cock filling Slackjaw just how he liked it. They tried to kiss, Slackjaw tilting his head back and Corvo stretching to reach. But they remained a mere inch from each other, red faced with half lidded eyes. Slackjaw had to grin at the ridiculous expression Corvo always made when he came.

“Corvo.” He sang with a stutter, the music had stopped, all Slackjaw could hear was the blood in his ears and the wet slap of skin on skin in stormy water. Corvo’s grunts and gasping sobs from behind him, crying out at the grip Slackjaw kept on his hair, tightening with every thrust. He came, filling the skin hot and wet, his arm aching from tugging at Slackjaw’s cock until he spilled into the water and over the edge of the tub.

Silence falls around them, the water slowly settling, nothing but the sound of heavy panting and half made laughter falling from their lips. Slackjaw released his iron grip on the other man’s hair, flexing his fingers before finding a better place to balance himself. Corvo pulled out with a final groan, watching his softening cock slip from Slackjaw’s body. He pulled the skin off, and threw it into the toilet with precision. Slackjaw turned, awkwardly settling back in the water on shaking legs and resting his head on the edge of the tub. Corvo sat between his legs, his head resting on the other man’s chest with his chin dipping into the water.

Slackjaw entwined their fingers under the water; Corvo only broke them minutes later to allow the hot tap to top up the bath, and then reclaimed his hold.

“At the ball,” Slackjaw whispered from behind him, Corvo stemmed his smile; he knew something was worrying the other man, “the music. Did it…” Slackjaw didn’t know how to ask. He just squeezed Corvo’s hand under the water. He felt the other man nod against his chest, the Overseers music, it had drained him horrifically. “Maybe you should take some time off, lad.”

“I can’t.” Corvo said.

“Then maybe you should appoint Azariah Fillmore as a trusted companion who’s allowed free-reign of Dunwall Tower.” He nosed Corvo’s hair and heard the man laugh. “I can hardly sneak in anymore with all the guards you have posted.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“Eh? Don’t want to see old Azariah anymore?” He kissed Corvo’s hair and hummed to hide his grin. The sun was beginning to rise through the shuttered bathroom windows, painting them with little strips of the dawn light. They’d both have to get out eventually, Corvo’s mind already turning with excuses as to why Lord Fillmore stayed the night. He’d have to replace the skin he used, clean up the water they had spilled, dispose of the sheets, find the cork, and he’s only just starting to remember why sleeping at Slackjaw’s place was so much easier.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I have some Slackjaw/Corvo art at http://cl2y.tumblr.com/ and (nsfw) at http://d2rt.tumblr.com/


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